


Part I

by ramify



Series: One More Time with Feeling [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Brotherly Angst, Cancer, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Future Major Character Death, One Shot, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramify/pseuds/ramify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We moved to Chicago. Dad thought it might help Dean. Everyone at school found out, I am not sure how, but they all did. I think chelsea berkins overheard a couple of teachers talking about it.<br/>It. I can't even say it. I’ve tried, but the weight of it is heavy on my chest when I open my mouth; my breath gets caught in my throat. My mind goes blank and I think of comforting words, something about hope, for myself, for Dean, but I never can. Nothing comes to mind, and so I stayed silent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part I

**Author's Note:**

> ok like, i wrote this like a poetry slam, so try and read it like that in your head. or outloud. go wild. get fucked.
> 
> plz reblog this on [tumblr!](http://weeaboocas.tumblr.com/post/124683310934/one-more-time-with-feeling)

We moved to Chicago. Dad thought it might help Dean. Everyone at school found out, I am not sure how, but they all did. I think Chelsea Berkins overheard a couple of teachers talking about it.

 

It. I can't even say it. I’ve tried, but the weight of it is heavy on my chest. When I open my mouth, my breath gets caught in my throat. My mind goes blank and I think of comforting words, something about hope, for myself, for Dean, but I never can. Nothing comes to mind, and so I stayed silent.

 

Our parents didn't tell the teachers this time. It was Dean's request; he only wanted to be normal, wanted everyone to make their own judgments of him without their conscience weighing down on their hearts. They judged him alright and it took everything I had to hold my tongue. Dean's words always rang in my ear, like an incessant buzzing of a fly getting too close:

 

"I don't care if they like me. I want them to know me, the real me. No excuses. Just me."

 

And I always kept my mouth shut.

 

The teachers immediately despised him, judged our parents for their lack of effort, for taking him out of school so often. They judged him for his drug abuse, even though he never brought it to school, but they could smell it on him. They hated his attitude; the way Dean struggled to articulate, his nonchalance about missing assignments, his poor judgment. It wasn't fair.

 

One too many times I had to catch myself from screaming at the counselors and teachers when they spoke to me with faux concern. I held my tongue once again. I kept quiet, and I nodded my head as Dean's words echoed, resisting every urge to cry.

 

The students weren't any better. They either loved him for his seeming rebellion or hated him for the same reason. They made comments about how terrible he looked, that he needed to eat, needed to go out in the sunlight. His hair was falling out in clumps, leaving him patchy and they didn't even care. Kids continued to make comments. They didn't know, they would never know, and I immediately felt guilt for ever thinking that eventually, when it was too late, they would. They would know and they would hate themselves, but I hated myself for ever thinking of such a thing. How could I allow myself to ever think that?

 

Cas was the only one who was ever genuine. Cas cared even though he was in the dark. From the very first day at our new school, he was accepting. He continued to smile though Dean scowled, offering whatever words he could about God in hopes of healing the pain he knew nothing of. Dean argued that Cas only wanted to save him and offer whatever redemption he could in order to convert him. Why was it such a bad thing? Was it so hard for Dean to believe that someone could be nice, that someone could offer a solution even though it may not be the outcome Dean desired? How could he not believe that there was hope? I was angry for a long time. Cas knew Dean, Cas made his own assessment of him, and yet, here Dean was, rejecting him.

 

What a hypocrite.

 

Cas told me to let go of my anger. To allow Dean to have his feelings because there was a reason behind them, even if I was blind to it. I did. I let go. If Cas wasn't angered by Dean's rejection, them why should I be? Cas was something else, if anything, he was a comfort to me and I could only hope that one day, Dean would let him in before it was too late.

  
The preacher's son came by our house more than Dean would have liked, under the false pretenses that Cas was there as my friend. Of course, I had invited Cas, praying that Dean would eventually accept him, but he only ever gave the kid sass wrapped in a devilish grin. My anger was lit once more when Dean took a swing at Cas, who took the hit like a champ. Yet again, Cas told me to let it go. He said he had provoked Dean, and yet again, I let it go.

 

It only got worse once Dean finally let Cas in. Dean finally allowed himself to laugh, to genuinely laugh. It came from the depths of his stomach, traveling up, up, up until it came out boisterously, loud and shaking the ground beneath us. I no longer had to beg Dean to tolerate Cas because Dean invited him over on his own, even gave Cas rides to school. It seemed what Dean needed all along was a friend who didn't assume, who didn't pretend to know him. for once, Dean wasn't sulking or coping with heavy sarcasm; he was finally happy.

 

\--But the chemo stopped working. They offered an alternative, another surgery, but Dean turned it down despite the wishes of the family. He gave up; he was tired after fighting for so long. I told him that there was always time, mom drowned herself in wine, and our father refused to speak to Dean for eight days, burying himself in his work like he had when we first found out. When Cas found out, he was there just in time to witness our family dispute.

 

"John, you haven't spoken to him in a week! You hardly even act like he is alive! Right now! With us!"

 

"Mary..."

 

"No, John, you can't do this to him! We don't know how much longer we have!"

 

It's the first acknowledgment in the family that Dean is sick and it's during dinner, the only time we actually seem to be a family. It stings and I no longer have an appetite, but it's like a weight has been lifted, like the dark cloud that has taken over our house has finally dispersed. The curse, the silence; it's finally broken.

 

There was a crash in the hallway and we all looked up to find a broken vase in the hallway and Cas, drenched from the rain, standing wide eyed as though he had witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Cas must have let himself into the house, something he had started to do once he became more accustomed to our household. He stumbled over his words before finally landing his eyes on Dean. The clicking in his brain like an engine failing to start was almost audible from across the room.

 

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

 

At his words, Dean stood up in a hurry and stormed out of the room, brushing past Cas, shoving him to the side like a hurricane. I thought it was because our parents had spilled the beans to yet another person; thought it was because no one was supposed to know; thought it was because they wanted too much of Dean when he was already so tired, but I was wrong. So very wrong.

 

I never realized how much time Dean and Cas had spent together once Dean finally accepted him. It never caught up to me the way they looked at each other when they thought no one else was watching, but we weren't ever really watching. I never noticed the lingering touches when they both reached for the remote or how close they sat next to each other. How Dean fought me when I called shotgun, when the seat clearly belonged to Cas. How did I never realize the flushness in their cheeks or their puffy lips whenever they exited Dean's room?

 

It didn't hit me until Cas ran after Dean, following him out the front door. Our mother rushed me to get Dean-- "He could get sick, Sammy"-- and I did. I stood up in a rush, frantic that shit would go from bad to worse if Dean caught a damn cold. I opened the door in a burst, leaving it open as I ran outside, looking through the downpour for Dean-- and I found him. I found Cas too, holding Dean, who was curled up on the wet grass with his head in Cas' lap. The rain was coming down on them, Cas' soft voice drifted in the wind, but his words were inaudible over the howls of the storm.

 

Dean never told Cas, despite how close they had gotten. Ever so selfish, he kept it a secret. Was he expecting Cas to never find out? Did Dean think that this wouldn't ever affect Cas if he never knew? Once more, I was filled with rage; an anger that nearly boiled the rain off my body.

 

"You never told him?" I shouted over the wind. It was louder now. The sky was a deep emerald, with a screen of gray clouds overhead. Chicago, the windy city, was prone to getting tornadoes and I could feel one approaching as my anger reached it's peak.

 

Dean looked up as I marched over to them.

 

"Sammy..."

 

"No, Dean. You are selfish. You can't do this to people. You can't bring them in and not tell them anything! You can't bottle this up!"

 

"I just wanted to feel--"

 

"What, normal? You want to feel normal? Newsflash, Dean, you aren't! Get over it!" I knew I would later regret what I was saying. The look in Dean's eyes told me that I would, but the words kept coming. Maybe I was finally at my breaking point; maybe holding it in for so long was crushing my lungs, letting out that breath that I was holding for so long-- I was practically gasping for air, trying so hard to breathe. "You have cancer! You are dying, Dean!"

 

I didn't know I was crying until my throat tightened around my words. To say it aloud after all this time was not the relief I was expecting. It was a realization of an impending doom. My older brother, the one who protected me, the one who was always there for me. One day, I will wake up only to remember that he wouldn't be sitting next to me while our mother served me French toast. There would only be three plates and an empty chair while we ate dinner. The Impala would sit in the garage, silent, her obnoxious engine quiet with no one in the driver's seat. There would be no loud, off-tune singing in the shower. One day, my heart would be broken and there would be no one to console me, or tell me to go out and get laid.  
No more teasing.  
No more lame stories.  
No more terrible jokes.    
It dawned on me that there was no hope. Dean was going to die and all that would be replacing him was silence.

 

Air caught in my throat as the muscle squeezed, nearly choking me. Everything was so blurry, and I was starting to see stars.  
"It's okay. It's okay."  Dean spoke, kind words penetrated my rage, softening the rough edges of anger. I never heard him approach; only felt his arms wrapped tightly around me. I felt the tears spill out as I sobbed into my brother's wet shirt.

 

Dean's words were not reassuring in the slightest, but they were spoken by him. He was here right now and as long as he was here, I had him. Cas had him. Mom and dad had him. For the time being, we could enjoy his laughter, his terrible jokes, and his teasing. Every second, every minute, every day we had left with him, it all counts for something.

 

After all this time, I was finally able to breathe.

 

"Everything will be okay, Sammy."

 

The rain was starting to let up and the clouds rolled back as the green disappeared from the sky, fading into its usual blue. Dean was right. Everything would be okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry?


End file.
